


Ouija

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Attempted Séance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Ouija Board, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 16:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20011357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: It's a dark and stormy night and Marti isn't scared.Yet.





	Ouija

“Yeah, power is out,” Gio announces flatly. From the sofa, Marti huffs as he watches him flick the light switch in the lake house living room off and on again, with no result. “Probably a short-circuit.”

“Fucking storm,” Elia echoes from where he’s still sitting in front of the playstation, joystick in hand, as if trying to convince it to work.

“But I was winning!” Luca whines, waving his own joystick in the air. “You guys all saw it. We were 1-0!”

“Only because you went on playing when I was talking to Marti.” Elia rolls his eyes and looks up at Gio. “Do you have, like… candles or something? It’s already kind of dark.”

“How romantic,” Nico mumbles, and Marti scoffs. He thought Nico was asleep. He’s been lying face down on Marti’s chest, his eyes closed, for the past two FIFA matches. It seemed like a logical assumption.

“Welcome back to Earth.” Marti makes to pull Nico’s hair to tease him but ends up combing them back with his fingers instead, as Nico leans into his touch. “Are you going to join us now or…?”

“Depends. Are you going to argue about God-knows-whose knee injury again?”

“Cruciate ligament tear,” Elia corrects him automatically. “And we weren’t _arguing_. I was just saying that it’s ridiculous how Marti refuses to accept that this means his season is practically-”

Nico groans in something resembling desperation, but he’s saved by Gio.

“Hey, look at this.” He emerges from the cupboard holding what seems like an ancient instrument of torture. “It’s got candles.” He looks at them critically. “Not the best ones out there, granted, but-”

“What the fuck is that?” Luca frowns.

“A candlestick… thingy?” Gio walks around the sofa and sets it carefully on the table next to it. It’s a black wrought-iron candlestick with three formless candles already melted in. There is a fourth arm but it’s eerily empty. Gio lights a match. “Let’s see if it… yeah.” The candles light up. “Should last for… well, maybe a few hours if we’re lucky.”

Marti raises his eyebrows.

“That’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s either this or complete darkness in about…” Gio looks out the window and Marti follows his line of sight. He can barely make out the shape of the trees outside. “Soon.”

“Fine. Still the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Which reminds me,” Luca says, suddenly excited. “I brought that game I borrowed from Silvia. I think Federicona recommended it or something?”

Marti snorts and Elia’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline.

“Do we wanna know?”

“Yes? It’s super cool! It’s the one where you talk to ghosts.”

“Is it a ouija board?” Nico’s head snaps up. He’s suddenly much more awake. “Like in the movies?”

Luca shrugs.

“I don’t know what it’s called. I only know that you’re supposed to ask questions and, like, the ghost can say ‘yes’ or 'no’ or use the letters and numbers to-”

“It’s a ouija board. That’s it. We’re using it now.” Nico grins and sits up on the sofa, eyes sparkling. Marti knows that look all too well: he rolls his eyes.

“Are we?”

“Of course!” Nico looks down at Marti like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “There’s a storm outside and there’s no power. Plus those creepy candles Gio found. When else are we gonna do this? It’s the perfect time!”

“But Ni, ghosts?” Marti smiles. It probably comes out a bit condescending, but come _on_. Nico is better than this. “It’s all bullshit - you _know_ it’s all bullshit. Bullshit and, like, what’s it called when you trick yourself into believing stuff that’s not real?”

“Suggestion?” Gio offers.

“Yeah, that.”

Nico shrugs. For a moment he looks almost disappointed, but it’s gone in a flash and Marti is left wondering if he imagined it. Then Nico smirks, self-satisfied and a bit wicked, and Marti knows what’s coming before the words have even left Nico’s mouth.

“Well, if you’re _scared_ , love, you can just say it. No one will judge you. Much.”

_Oh, for God’s sake._

“I’m not scared. There’s nothing to be scared _of_.”

“Great, we’re doing it then.” Nico claps his hands once. “Eli? Gio? You’re cool with this, right?”

It’s not really a question. Marti scoffs and looks over to Elia, who just shrugs.

“If you say that it’s cool and not, like, the usual Silvia thing…”

“HEY!” Luca tries to argue, but Elia ignores him.

“It’s cool, I promise.” Nico smiles. Then he turns to look at Gio, an eyebrow raised. “What about you?”

Marti and Gio make eye contact for a fraction of a second and Marti rolls his eyes.

_You know you don’t really have a choice._

“I mean, pretty sure there are no ghosts to talk to in the first place…” Gio begins, and Marti mouths a pointed 'thank you’ but it’s mostly for show at this point. “… but I don’t see the harm in this. At most we’ll look ridiculous trying to talk to no one.” He shrugs.

“We’ll see about that.” Nico stands up from the sofa, almost electric with excitement, and extends a hand to help Marti up as well. “Let’s set things up, yeah?”

*

Nico was right about the setting being appropriate, Marti will give him that.

It takes Luca a good twenty minutes to locate the game, so by the time they’re ready to start it’s gotten pretty dark outside. If it weren’t for Gio’s creepy candlestick, they wouldn’t be able to see each others’ faces despite being huddled close around the small living room table.

The rain pelts down insistently against the windows and the sudden crack of thunder makes them jump. That must have been close.

Marti is sitting on the sofa, between Gio and Nico. Luca and Elia have taken the chairs. Marti watches Luca put down the board gingerly on the small table and sit back down, obviously excited.

“So, what now?” Marti asks. “Does this spirit have a name or…?”

“I mean, how long has your family had this place?” Elia smirks at Gio. “It might be one of your ancestors who decided to stay over. Haunt us for a bit.” He pretends to have a look around. “Garau senior? You there?”

“My aunt bought the house like, four years ago so I doubt it. Also, _'You there?'_ ” Gio scoffs. “Is this how you summon ghosts?”

“No, you’re supposed to say 'dear spirit’,” Luca offers in a knowledgeable tone. “Otherwise the spirit gets offended. Right, Nico?”

“Yeah, Ni, we’re dying to know. Does the spirit get offended?” Marti smiles angelically at him, but Nico doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“I don’t know that you _have_ to say it,” he tells Luca. “But we can say it, sure. Why not?” He pinches Marti’s leg without even turning to look. “Fuck you.”

Marti has to swallow an inappropriate reply.

“Okay, but I don’t get it.” Elia points to the glass planchette on top of the ouija board. “What does that do?”

“That’s got to be, like, the thing you move around to answer questions with, right?” Gio seems to consider his own words for a moment. “What does one even ask a spirit?”

“I mean, anything.” Luca shrugs. “Last time at Silvia’s I asked if Roma was going to win the league.” 

“And?” Gio sounds curious, despite himself. “What did it say?”

“Lol.”

“What?!”

“Swear to God. It said lol.”

“Spirits don’t _say_ lol,” Marti offers with an eyeroll, and Nico jumps on it like he was waiting for it.

He probably was.

“Oh? So before spirits didn’t exist, but now they do, except they don’t say lol. Interesting.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“That ghosts don’t like abbreviations, apparently.”

Nico beams at him, bright and smug, his smile shining in the candlelight, and Marti really wants to slap him. Not for real. Just in the way that’ll lead to playfighting and rolling around being silly until one of them gives up and leans in for a kiss.

But this isn’t the time. The sharp cracking sound of thunder brings Marti abruptly back to the present.

“Put your fingers on the glass thing,” Nico says.

Luca complies quickly and Elia follows suit, snickering at Marti’s eyeroll. Nico huffs, grabs Marti’s hand himself, and puts his index finger on the planchette, right next to his own. Gio slowly completes the circle.

“Maybe I should start?” Luca offers. “As I know the spirit already. Might be easier that way.”

“I thought we agreed it was a different spirit,” Elia says. “This one’s Gio’s ancestor!”

“I told you it’s _not!_ ”

“Well, I’m starting anyway.” Luca clears his throat. “Dear spirit, uh… how are you? Luca here.” Elia facepalms and Marti has to hide the giggles in Gio’s shoulder. Luca doesn’t seem to care. “We were wondering: are you actually Giovanni’s great grandfather or something?”

“Oh, for fuck’s-”

“Sssshhhh.” Luca shushes Gio with a finger on his lips. “One at a time or we’ll confuse it.”

They fall silent and just stare at the planchette in the middle of the board. It’s a bit eery, Marti will admit, if only to himself. The storm, the darkness, the candles casting weird shadows on the wooden board.

One second, two, three.

Nothing happens. Marti expected nothing different, but he’s a bit relieved anyway.

“Well, it’s been fun-” he starts to say, his tone smug, when a sudden vibration cuts him off.

The planchette starts moving around in circles right at the centre of the board. For a second, Marti doesn’t know how to react. Just stares open-mouthed at their forefingers moving in circles, his heart beating in his throat.

Then rationality kicks in.

“Ni, stop it,” Marti says. He has to make an effort to keep his voice level.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Of course you are. The glass thing is moving!”

“Yeah, but it’s not _me_.”

Marti gulps. He stares at the planchette as it slowly makes its way to the top right of the board.

“ _No_ ,” Luca reads aloud.

They all let go of the planchette and look up at Gio. His eyebrows are raised and his lips curved in a half-smile, like he’s almost sure he’s being made fun of - but he just can’t be completely certain yet.

“Well, I guess that settles it?” he offers mildly.

“Right, my turn now,” Elia announces and gestures for them to touch the planchette again. “Spirit, listen-”

“Dear spirit,” Luca whispers, and Elia rolls his eyes.

“ _Dear spirit_ , listen, we’re very poor.” Gio scoffs, and Elia corrects himself. “Well, we’re _kinda_ poor - like, we’re not millionaires or anything. So I was thinking: as you know the future and all, can you give us the lottery numbers for like, this week, so we can make some money?”

The planchette moves quicker now. Marti glances up at Nico out of the corner of his eye, but he only looks focused. Attentive.

Yet it must be him, it must.

Luca would have been more obvious about it and Elia would have already started laughing in their faces for falling for it. And Gio is just as sceptical as Marti is, if not more.

So it’s got to be Nico. Unless…

“ _No_ again.” Elia raises both eyebrows at the board. “Does it only say no? Ask something where it has to say yes.”

“Like?” Marti asks.

“I don’t know. Something you know the answer to and the answer is yes.”

“It’s Gio’s turn, though,” Marti points out sensibly. He’s not scared of doing this, he’s just following the rules. He thinks. “We’re going clock-wise.”

“Well, then, _Gio_ , make it say yes.”

“Right. Thanks, man, for dumping the ghost on me.” Gio bumps his shoulder against Marti’s and Marti sticks his tongue out at him. Gio clears his throat. “Dear spirit, is my birthday in August?”

It’s weird.

Marti feels his finger moving before Gio has even finished asking the question. It’s not moving to the 'yes’ corner, though.

Marti has to suppress a shiver when he realises they’re spelling a word using the letters on the board.

M… A…

“March? May?” Luca frowns. “But you _were_ born in August, right?”

R… T… I

Marti lets go of the glass planchette like it’s burning him.

_What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK._

They’re all staring at him, eyes wide and concerned, and Marti knows he probably looks worse than all of them. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself.

“Whichever one of you is doing this, know that it’s not funny. I-”

“It’s not us!” Luca almost squeals. “It’s the spirit!”

“WHAT SPIRIT?! THERE IS NO-” Marti cuts himself off, shaking his head. He doesn’t know if he believes that anymore. He lowers his voice to an almost-whisper. “What does it want from me anyway?”

“Maybe just to talk?” Nico looks relatively calm despite the situation and Marti can’t help but scoot closer to him on the sofa. He doesn’t care how that makes him look anymore. “You wanna ask it what it wants?”

Marti lets out a bitter laugh. It probably sounds a bit hysterical.

“Funnily enough, no.”

“Do you want me to ask it for you?”

Marti shrugs, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“If you must.”

Marti doesn’t touch the planchette this time around and no one asks him to. Nico’s voice sounds almost too loud in the near darkness of the living room.

“Dear spirit, why do you want to talk to Marti?”

He shivers. He doesn’t really want to see, but he watches anyway as the boys' fingers are moved excruciatingly slowly across the board.

H… E…  
I… S…  
H… O… T

For a moment, there is no reaction, like Marti’s brain is unable to compute what’s happening, what this must mean.

He vaguely hears the boys laughing all around him, Nico’s voice asking him something in a tone that’s almost concerned. Almost guilty.

He doesn’t really hear what he’s saying. What any of them are saying.

Marti stands up abruptly with a single coherent thought in his head: _out._

He says nothing and makes for the door, but the low rumble of faraway thunder reminds him of why that’s not a good idea.

He just keeps walking: past the door, down the hallway, and into the bedroom.

He slams the door shut behind him.

*

The knock on the door isn’t unexpected, but Marti still doesn’t reply.

He already feels silly for leaving like that. He knows his eyes are red and swollen and he doesn’t want anyone to see that.

He punches the pillow in frustration. Honestly, he’s not even sure why he’s been crying. Probably just because he’s too ashamed to do anything else.

There is another knock on the door, a bit louder this time.

“Marti? Can I come in?”

_Nico._

Marti mumbles something incoherent he really doesn’t mean anything by and hears the bedroom door creak open behind his back. He doesn’t turn to look.

Not that he would see anything. It’s pitch black in here.

He hears Nico close the door behind him and feels the bed dip when Nico sits on the far side of it.

There’s a part of him that wants to crawl over there and let Nico hug the sadness away. Another part of him wants Nico to sit there and feel bad until Marti is done screaming at him.

In the end, he does neither. Just waits for Nico to speak.

“I’m sorry, Marti.” Nico’s voice sounds anxious and tentative, like he doesn’t know what to expect.

Marti doesn’t either.

“It’s because I said that thing about suggestion and believing in made-up things, right?” he asks, his tone flat.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out now.

Nico sighs. Marti hears it more than seeing it.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. Not like this. I didn’t want you to feel bad, I… It was supposed to be fun and silly, I don’t know what…” Nico trails off and sighs again, deeper this time. “I’m really sorry.”

“But it _was_ because of that.”

“That’s when I thought I’d try and scare you, yeah. But I didn’t mean…” Marti can’t see him but he knows Nico is gesturing vaguely around. “Any of this.”

There is a long pause.

Marti can hear the boys talk in hushed tones in the living room and it only serves as a reminder of how ashamed Marti is of his reaction, of how much that stings.

And speaking of _stings_ …

“I was rude,” Marti admits. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound, like. Patronising or anything.”

Nico scoffs.

“Don’t apologise. It’s not you who has to apologise.”

“I do what I want, thank you very much.”

That startles a laugh out of Nico and Marti curves his lips in a small smile too, though he knows Nico can’t see him.

“Can I…?” Nico doesn’t finish the sentence but there is no need.

“Yeah.”

Marti sighs in relief when Nico crawls across the bed and hugs him from behind. He smiles, reaches for Nico’s neck, and pulls him down for a kiss. Nico breaks it soon enough, though, and starts blindly peppering kisses around his eyes and down his cheeks, like he’s trying to kiss away Marti’s tears.

It makes Marti heart swell but it also tickles. Marti giggles and pushes Nico away.

Nico lets himself fall back down onto the mattress and Marti lays down next to him. Nico’s fingers reach for his in the dark. They hold hands.

“Do you really believe in ghosts?” Marti asks. He’s genuinely curious, but also a bit on edge, knowing they’re probably not going to find any sort of common ground here.

“I don’t know. Maybe not.” Nico shrugs. “But then again, what do we know? Just because you can’t prove something is real, it doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Marti says decisively. He can’t see Nico’s reaction but he can picture him biting his lips so he won’t say what he’s thinking. He rolls his eyes. “Or, well, I don’t when I’m not terrified out of my mind.”

“Fair.” Nico laughs quietly. “Why not?”

“'Cause they’re just like. So abstract? I have no reason to believe they’re real. You said it too, it’s not like you can prove their existence.”

Nico hums quietly and then is silent for a long moment, like he’s thinking about what Marti just said.

“So abstract,” Nico repeats, almost to himself. “But you believe in love?”

Marti raises both eyebrows at that.

“I mean… yeah?” It comes out sounding a lot like _duh_. “But that’s different.”

“How? Isn’t love abstract too?”

“Well, no, 'cause there’s all sorts of chemical reactions and stuff-”

“That’s not _love_.” Nico sounds almost horrified. It makes Marti smile. “That’s your body’s reaction to it.”

“Right, but that’s the thing. It has an effect you can measure.”

“Okay.” Nico turns to look at him. In the dark, Marti can barely make out his eyes and the vague shape of his face. Nico kisses the tip of Marti’s nose and chuckles when Marti does the same to him. “But do you need to know the science to believe in love?”

They lean in for a kiss at the same time. Slow, unhurried, confident. Nico holds Marti by the waist and lets Marti hands fly up to cradle his face.

“That’s cheating,” Marti whispers between kisses, though he wouldn’t dream of moving away. “And for the record you didn’t convince me in the slightest.”

Nico smiles against his lips.

“You didn’t convince me either.”


End file.
